Chapter 25 #2
“That’s great,” Katya encourages. “Then I think your pizza is perfect and ready to go in the oven. Why don’t you and Bastian go wash up, and in like twenty minutes it’ll be dinner time. Your daddy and I will make sure they cook just right.”
And we’ll clean up this mess. She doesn’t have to say it, but the way she winces as she takes in the scene around us makes her intention clear.
“Okay!” Leo agrees happily, climbing down off his high-top chair. I’m fairly certain he gets more cheese and flour on the floor in the process, but I can’t be bothered to mind. “Come on, Bastian, we can pick movie. Daddy said so, remember?”
Pizza and movie night is always a hit with them, even if we typically end up rewatching the same five movies every single time.
“You have sauce on your face,” Bastian replies, ignoring his question.
Leo promptly starts trying to find the sauce with his tongue, unsuccessful in licking it off given that it’s closer to his ear than his mouth. Bastian merely sighs at his brother, and I know that he’ll clean it off for him while they wash up.
As soon as they’re out of sight, Katya takes a handful of cheese off Leo’s pizza and quickly ushers it into the oven before he can discover what she’s done. She spins around after doing the deed, and looks almost sheepish as she meets my eyes.
“There’s no way all of that was going to melt.”
I chuckle, passing her Bastian’s neatly made pepperoni pizza to bake next to Leo’s. “Your secret is safe with me. He won’t notice. He thinks all pizza is piled with cheese when it tastes good.”
“Well then I hope it tastes good.” She exhales and dusts her hands off. “I don’t want to get on his bad side over some cheese.”
“Cheese is a very serious topic in this house,” I joke, huffing. “But he’ll love it. There’s rarely any food that Leo doesn’t go nuts over.”
“Not a picky eater then, that’s good.” Katya opens our second oven to slide our larger, simpler pizzas in to bake. Hers is sprinkled with chunks of chicken and vegetables while mine is layered with sausage, peppers, and spinach.
“Not a picky eater but a bit of a tornado in the kitchen,” I reply, gesturing to the chaos surrounding us.
Her lips twitch in amusement, but she grimaces quickly after. “I’m pretty sure there’s flour in my hair. I can’t remember the last time I felt like I needed a shower before eating dinner rather than after.”
“Welcome to parenthood,” I drawl, already beginning to pick up.
“You’ll feel like you’re a mess more often than not.
You should buy plenty of clothes that you won’t mind getting stained, and prepare to shower every night before bed in case there’s some rogue food stuck to you or sticky gunk that you’re unsure if it’s glue or melted candy. ”
“Ew,” Katya comments, looking mildly horrified.
“Ew, indeed. Boys are gross, you’ll come to learn.”
She laughs lightly, shaking her head. “Gaia wouldn’t stand for it.”
“I imagine she wouldn’t,” I agree, chuckling in return.
It doesn’t take long for her to notice me beginning to clean up the messy counter, mainly focusing on the food droppings.
She, in turn, starts to work on putting away the unused ingredients, giving me more space to clean.
She bags up toppings, reseals jars of sauce, and clears away some dirty dishes while I start to wipe down most of the mess.
We make a good team, working quickly and efficiently to clean up the disaster area within only a few minutes. When things look relatively back to normal, she smiles and puts her hands on her hips, eyeing our accomplishment with pride.
“That wasn’t so bad.” She hums and then looks down at herself.
The tight white T-shirt she changed into while the boys napped is now speckled with sauce stains and wet flour is stuck to several spots. Her black fabric pants have been spared by any staining but are decorated with white powder like she’s been running around a bakery all day.
“I should probably change.” She looks back up, her cheeks tinting as if she’s embarrassed for her appearance.
As if I didn’t watch my son cause almost every single bit of damage to her outfit while she made him laugh and helped him cook.
“Actually, I need to change. I think I might lose my mind if I track flour all throughout the house all night. Can you watch the ovens?”
“I’ve got this,” I confirm, nodding. “And don’t worry, Katya. Any flour being tracked through the house will be because of the boys. Our housekeeper works while they sleep to reset the damage they’ve done during the day.”
“We have a housekeeper?” she asks, eyes widening in what looks like relief and possibly glee.
My eyebrows raise up, and I try not to laugh at her reaction. “Not a big fan of cleaning, are you?”
She nibbles on her bottom lip and shakes her head. “I don’t mind it so much, but if tonight is any indication…”
“We have a housekeeper,” I answer her question straight on this time, chuckling under my breath.
“Her name is Rosie and she’s here five days a week.
She’s one of my soldier’s mothers, and she’s been with me since Bastian was born.
You likely won’t see her often, because she’s quiet as a mouse, but when you wake up to a sparkling clean house, she’s who’s responsible for it. ”
“A phantom who cleans while I sleep? Is she an angel?”
“I’ll tell her you asked that, she’ll think you’re sweet.”
I think you’re sweet.
I think I want to kiss you again and see if you still taste sweet.